


Taking Root

by kathryne



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Hackle, Sharing Magic, settling in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathryne/pseuds/kathryne
Summary: She's been at Cackle's for only a few days, but already, Hecate knows, she's developing a reputation.*A pre-canon story about Hecate's first days at Cackle's and how Ada helps her to feel welcome.





	Taking Root

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmic_llin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/gifts).



> This was written for cosmic_llin, who dared me to write Hackle (no really, she did), and who has been very subtle and unhurried about nudging me in the direction of this fandom. ;) She gave me a handful of prompts: this is a mix of 'Ada helping Hecate get settled' and 'the first time they perform magic together.'
> 
> Thanks to hacklesacademy for beta and for only once demanding whether this means I like cosmic_llin better than I do her... :P

She's been at Cackle's for only a few days, but already, Hecate knows, she's developing a reputation. She prowls, she skulks, she lurks – all properly witchy hobbies, except when they're said with a sideways look or in a hushed tone at mealtimes. With two weeks yet till term begins, Hecate has settled in well enough to her new rooms, but growing to know the tight-knit group of live-in faculty members will take somewhat longer.

She walks along the library hallway, one hand trailing gently against the stone. A few people are inside, reading in comfortable seats before the fire, but Hecate passes before they can look up. Hopefully they didn't see her; hopefully they won't be muttering behind her back.

She's not skulking, not really. Yes, she's spent most of her free time wandering the school and its grounds. But that's not because she needs to find the best alcove from which to frighten students, as she overheard the art teacher, Miss Granite, suggest yesterday at lunch. It's simply that Hecate wants to know the place.

Is that so strange? This is her new home, after all, and the first one that's not transient by its very nature. She lived in dorms at school and university, and though she had her own rooms while apprenticing at Coldstone, she never intended to stay longer than the two years it took to complete her magical teaching qualifications. If they like her at Cackle's, she could stay as long as she wants.

 _If they like you_ , mutters a quiet voice in the back of her head. It sounds rather like Miss Granite. 

There's no reason, she admonishes herself, they shouldn't. Alma Cackle, the Headmistress, hired Hecate personally. She sweetened the deal, even, telling Hecate of the extensive gardens where they grew their own potions ingredients, and the woods beyond the school grounds where even rarer plants hid – "If you're brave enough, dear," she added with a wink. Hecate has no doubt she's more than brave enough for any clump of trees and looks forward to proving it.

She reaches the main doors and presses her hand against the ancient wood, feeling the hum of generations of witching energy that whispers through the grain. Under her touch, the door opens slowly, as though the school knows what she wants, and though Hecate knows it's likely a general spell designed to respond to any faculty, still she wonders if it might be a sign she can belong here.

Cackle's is a traditional school, dedicated to bringing up young witches who know and respect their Craft, and Hecate has always imagined herself in this sort of environment, surrounded by other professionals who share the same goals. As she steps outside, she admits that she also imagined she would fit in easily in such a group. It's just that it was a childish desire, not taking account of reality. No doubt these things just take time; no doubt she'll make room for herself eventually.

Regardless, she wants to know Cackle's, never feels quite comfortable in a place until she has it mapped out properly in her mind. She likes to understand the corridors and stairways and rooms well enough to transfer into any of them with a moment's thought. At the tops of the towers she can look down, fitting the pathways together from above. And tonight she will walk three times around the campus boundaries – widdershins, always widdershins, to banish negative energy and to guard against any accidental intention of her own.

It takes less time than she expects. The walls are in good repair and the path around them relatively clear. Hecate magicks back a few brambles, smooths away several roots, and walks, alone with the setting sun. It's a rare beautiful summer evening and the light slants clear and golden through the trees. Dragonflies flit. Leaves rustle. Flowers perfume the air. Anyone else might call it 'idyllic.' Hecate thinks only that it is surprisingly pleasant. And when she finishes her third circuit, the whole place seems clear in her mind, every stone understood and accounted for.

It's too pleasant to go back inside, she decides, and so she finds herself drawn inevitably to the gardens, large and impressive as Alma described them. Here, too, the ground hums with magical energy, the result of generations of witches doing their best to encourage growth and health. Hecate hasn't contributed anything yet, but she sinks to her knees, digging her fingers into the crumbling soil, and her magic fizzles in her fingertips, eager to be released.

"Quite the achievement, isn't it, Hecate?" someone asks from behind her, and Hecate sits up straight. She hadn't realised anyone was so close.

It's one of the Cackle sisters, Ada or Agatha – Hecate doesn't know the two well enough yet to tell them apart. This one is wearing a light purple dress and a welcoming smile, and she shakes her head as Hecate makes to scramble to her feet. 

"Don't get up on my account," she says cheerily, dropping to the grass and curling her legs beneath her. She reaches out to the rich black soil herself, touching it almost reverently. "This is one of my favourite spots in the whole school."

The Cackle sisters are nearer in age to Hecate than the rest of the faculty, yet tied to the school even more closely. They've spent nearly their whole lives there, Hecate understands, preparing to lead when their mother steps down. One of them, she dimly remembers, went to school elsewhere, but now they both seem dedicated to the place.

"Miss Cackle," Hecate starts, hopeful.

"Ada," the other woman corrects her, and Hecate relaxes.

"Ada. Did you come to harvest something? May I be of assistance?" Ada, Hecate thinks, teaches spell science; Agatha, charms and cantrips. Ada shouldn't need ingredients for her classes – but then, she might be working a spell of her own, after all. Alma did say the gardens were open for personal use, within reason.

Ada shakes her head and shifts, stretching her legs out and crossing them at the ankle. The sun is nearly gone now and the grass is cool against Hecate's ankles, all that she has exposed under her long dress. Ada's dress ends just below her knees and her legs are bare. She must be chilled, but she looks perfectly content.

"No, I was just enjoying the evening. We get too few nice nights not to take advantage of them, don't we?" She leans forward then, eager. "Were you greeting the garden?"

Hecate shakes her head. Introducing herself to the garden – feeding a bit of her magic into the ground, letting the plants know her – was one of the rituals she most looked forward to, but she's held herself back in the days since her arrival. It just seems so very permanent.

Ada picks up on her reluctance, and her voice is gentle when she continues. "Would you like me to help?" she asks. Hecate's head snaps up, and Ada responds instantly. "Not that I don't think you're capable. Mother would never have offered you the job otherwise, and she was ever so pleased when you agreed to come. She simply wouldn't stop talking about you." 

She smiles, and Hecate nods back. Breathes again. Definitely doesn't think about what it might mean that Alma Cackle apparently bragged about hiring her.

"I just thought..." Now it's Ada's turn to be unsure. "Well, I've been here rather a long time, you know. Your spell might be more powerful if it's tied up with a magic the garden already recognises. The binding will take more quickly."

And more powerfully, Hecate knows. More tightly. It'll be harder to undo, when she leaves. If she leaves.

And yet, with Ada Cackle looking at her almost shyly, Hecate finds she's already more at ease. The idea of performing a ritual together by choice seems entirely enticing. It's been a long time since she approached a paired chant with excitement.

She realises suddenly that she's been silent too long, but Ada doesn't seem uncomfortable. She's watching the garden bend in the breeze, now, apparently content to wait. "I'd like that," Hecate says at last. "If you're sure... Ada?"

"I am, Hecate." Ada reaches out and takes Hecate's hand, and together they stand, take off their shoes, step barefoot into the garden soil to ground themselves. They clasp hands tightly, palm to palm, and Hecate takes a deep breath.

_Sun and water, air and earth,_  
_Always growing, never bare,_  
_I bring a gift to prove my worth,_  
_And feed the power we now share._

Ada joins in on the second round of the chant, and Hecate almost startles, almost drops the rhythm. Ada squeezes her hand once and brings them through it, but it takes Hecate a moment before she's in control again. Ada's voice is not beautiful, but, confident and well-trained, it harmonises with Hecate's as though they've sung together a thousand times. Hecate can already feel their twinned power building. This spell – the binding – will be strong, she knows.

On the third round, she feels the dirt warm under her feet. Her magic hums within her, and Ada's magic too, calling to the garden, which recognises them, embraces them. She nods to Ada, who nods back, understanding, and they transition seamlessly into the concluding couplet.

_From renewal, witching's start  
Know my magic, know my heart!_

They speak the last word and Hecate's magic _stretches_ outward, running through all the plants in the garden, root to branch to leaf, all the bugs and worms, spiders and bees, until she knows the boundaries of the garden as intimately as she knows herself. And Ada, beside her, is for a moment just as visible to her magical senses. Hecate _knows_ her, too, in a white-hot flash that fades almost instantly but leaves a warmth behind, like the sun after a day at the seaside. Hecate's skin tingles.

Ada speaks first. "Well!" she says, too brightly. She tugs her hand from Hecate's and Hecate gasps. She almost forgot she was holding it.

"Well," Ada says again, stepping back onto the path. Her bare feet are covered in dirt. 

Hecate follows; so are hers. She takes her time brushing them clean, but when she looks up again, Ada is still watching her.

"I think, Hecate Hardbroom, that you have a very interesting time ahead of you at Cackle's." Ada doesn't bother to wipe her feet clean, merely picks up her shoes and stockings and pauses while Hecate does the same.

Hecate glances at the garden, at the hemlock that she can tell with a thought will be ready for harvest next week, the fiddlehead ferns that need to be warded against inquisitive rabbits, the blackberry bramble that is preparing to flower tomorrow morning. Then she looks back at Ada, at the dimples blooming in her cheeks and the way she waits so patiently. "Do you know," Hecate says at last, "I think you may be right about that."

She smiles, quickly, shyly, and follows Ada back into the castle. The door swings wide to admit them, and for the first time, Hecate feels welcomed.


End file.
